Post Mortem
by 95Echelon
Summary: The World-Seam is falling apart. The apocalypse has begun Harry Potter is in chains, Hermione Granger is dead and Thomas Colt has had enough.
1. Day Zero

**Prologue**

On the day he would later refer to as Zero Day, the sun dawned a flat, wintry blue-grey, the cheery summer warmth nearly gone, like someone had lit an incandescent bulb in the sky and then swaddled it in fine cobalt organza.

He didn't know that of course – trapped as he had been that day several hundred feet underground - but later he would see the pictures of Before, and wish he'd been there, that last day, before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

He wished he'd had one last breath of a crisp almost-winter morning, before the air had been tainted with ash and the coppery scent of blood-on-snow. But that was Before and this was Now, and he, Thomas Colt needed to take time off from raining hell on demons and deathslayers.

He had a world to save.


	2. Colt

Hello and welcome to utterly rubbish bit of nonsense I've decided to write. I DON'T KNOW WHY. PLEASE DON'T ASK.

I'll be borrowing heavily from Supernatural's mythology, so any similarities and/or outright plagiarism you see is entirely on purpose. Please don't yell at me. Thank you.

I disclaim everything – except Colt. Colt is my bitch.

* * *

><p>He snapped on the latex gloves, and grabbed the anointed blade from the rickety wooden table. Stepping into the devil's trap, he approached the dark-eye strapped to the dining table, the leather restraints wet and glistening with her blood. The knife dangled from his calloused fingertips in a deceptively loose grip.<p>

"Come on baby," he crooned, his rough baritone turning honey-smooth and easy, as he ran his bloodstained hand through her matted hair. "You know you're gonna give me what I need now. Why you gotta fight, sugar? You're dead either way."

His eyes – feverish bright blue – crinkled up in a dazzling, all-American-boy smile.

She spat.

"Aw, now look what you did, darlin'. You've gone an' made a damned mess." The blade spun between nimble fingers, coming to rest in a sure-fisted grip. He touched the tip just beneath a pale, pink-tipped breast, eyelash-soft against the skin between her ribs.

"_You shouldn't'a done that."_

The blade sank into her lung.

She coughed, dribbling blood and mucus and saliva from the side of her mouth. She drew back as far her restraints allowed her (not much) and laughed, the sound shaky and low, the shiny, pink muscles of her slit-open throat catching the evening light from the window.

"It is beginning, Colt. The archangels, Michael and Lucifer have their vessels. The battle lines have been drawn. The apocalypse is near. You foolish pile of walking _excrement… _You are nothing. You will _die._"

"You say the sweetest things, sugar. Who're the vessels?"

"Kill me, hunter."

"In time, sweetcheeks. Names."

She arched against the leather, blood and spittle flying from her lips. "**KILL ME!**"

Once more, with a grunt, he raised the blade, bringing it down with a ringing resonance, and snapped off her remaining arm.

Her scream pierced, and from her severed shoulder, blood flew, spattering the hunter, the grimy warehouse walls behind him and the incandescent bulb above.

""_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii," _he chanted, slow and easy, the exorcism ritual falling off his lips with practiced ease, "_Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica... Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te …"_

Her eyes flashed, brown pupils battling flat liquid black, her dismembered torso seizing violently, her head thrashing form side to side, the exorcism drawing out the horrific pain of being dragged out of a human vessel.

"**NO NAMES HUNTER! USE THE KNIFE! KILL ME!**"

"_Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis...", _he muttered, eyes focused and waiting, even as he continued with the ritual.

"**Grindelwald! GELLERT GRINDELWALD! **Is Lucifer's chosen vessel… Is all I know… Is all I know… Kill me, hunter."

"Much obliged, madam."


End file.
